Hopeless
by Authoressinhiding
Summary: From the moment she saw him, Eowyn loved the heir of Elendil. Unfortunately, he was already in love with someone else. 30 Day OTP Challenge. Traces Eowyn's and Aragorn's thoughts, feelings, and interactions throughout book and movie canon with side jaunts into the realm of what might have been. Mostly angst with occasional humor.
1. Bedtime Stories

**Disclaimer: Eowyn, Aragorn, and everything associated with Middle-earth belong to Tolkien. For brevity's sake, this disclaimer applies to the entire story.**

**A/N: This fic will be a 30 Day OTP challenge featuring Eowyn/Aragorn. Some chapters, like this one, will take place in the movieverse, others in the bookverse. They will be designated by ~MV~ or ~BV~. For example, this first oneshot is bookverse. Some chapters will be one-sided, others will not. ****The tones between chapters set in the bookverse and those in the movieverse are going to be markedly different at times, because I feel that the Éowyn of the book and the Éowyn of the movie are in reality two separate characters. **

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~BV~

When I was a small child, my mother sat by my bed and told me stories of heroes and shieldmaidens, of our noble ancestors and the fair horses that bore them. Late at night, she whispered Elvish legends and laughed at the silliness of my uncle's councilors. After my father died, the stories changed. Amidst her mourning, she spoke frequently of how she fell in love with Éomund the warrior. As my mother sickened, she told me to be brave. She knew she was dying. Grief can kill, the same as any sword. Kneeling at her side, I wept and begged her not to leave me. She promised that someday I would fall in love and never again be alone. I did not believe her. Love seemed an impossible, cruel thing, to take my mother from me.

Gandalf Greyhame arrived today and brought an elf, a man, and a dwarf with him. Aragorn, as the man is called, prevented me from rushing to my uncle's aid while the wizard freed him from an evil spirit. To my shock, my arm burned where Aragorn touched me. I do not understand this; I have felt cold for so long. The wizard and his companions urge my uncle to ride out against the Orcs at last. Their counsel seems sound, their words courageous. But perhaps it is not my mind speaking – I still see that man's face when I close my eyes. Love has fallen upon me at last. I fear it will be cruel.

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**All feedback is greatly appreciated.**


	2. Troubled

~BV~

He met Théodwyn once – the chubby toddler had wandered out of bed and into the great hall to give her father a sticky kiss. Laughing, Thengel introduced her to his captains – including the great Thorongil – before carrying her back to the nursery. Now that girl was dead, and Aragorn sat at her brother's table, sharing a meal with Théodwyn's daughter. Sometimes he wondered if the long life of Numenor was really not a curse in disguise – to see all that you love wither and die before you. Perhaps this was how even his line appeared to the Elves. His thoughts drifted uncomfortably to Arwen.

Presently, his attention returning to the conversation around him, Aragorn discovered Legolas and Gimli regaling the lady Éowyn with tales of their journey, leaving out the Ring. As they described their skirmish in Moria, she leaned forward in her chair, gray eyes alight with interest. Aragorn had not truly looked at her before, but now he noted her slender form and golden hair. She must be strong, too, to have endured her parents' deaths and her brother's imprisonment, and to have been Théoden's nursemaid and not be broken by it all. For the house of Éorl, she was very fair, indeed. Why did that trouble him?

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**Review?**


	3. White Lady of Rohan

~BV~

"Hail Aragorn son of Arathorn!" She holds the cup of parting in slender white hands, her gray eyes shining with some emotion he does not want to decipher. Their hands touch as she passes him the cup, and he feels her tremble.

"Hail Lady of Rohan!" he replies courteously, discomfort preventing him from smiling.

Thankfully the moment is soon over, for it is time to depart. Théoden leads his counselors and guests through the long wooden hall to the doors of Meduseld. He converses briefly with Háma and others, and then appoints Éowyn to guide and protect their people in his absence. The Ranger watches as she kneels and receives a sword from her uncle. She rises, belting the sword at her side, her face calm and stoic. Only Aragorn sees her fingers, bloodless and pale where she clutches the sword hilt.

Éowyn speaks to the king now, urging him to return safely and soon, but her eyes stray and find Aragorn's. He attempts to understand the silent message within, even while reassuring her that Mordor, not Isengard, will be their doom. Is it a simple request for him to protect the older king? Does she look to him as a leader because of his birth and despite his lack of men? Or is it something else altogether, the thing he fears? Éowyn has just met him. She knows nothing of him save his heritage, his bearing, and his deeds as described by Éomer, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf. She does not know him. How can she think she loves him?

This moment, too, passes quickly, and brief farewells are made. They must hurry; war calls. The king's company departs down the great stairway, leaving Edoras behind them. Still distracted, Aragorn hardly notices where he is walking. At one point, he missteps due to inattention, and Legolas steadies him with a quick hand on his elbow. As they near the gate of the city, Aragorn turns and glances back to where Éowyn stands, now clad in silver mail.

Some feeling rises up within him. Her people love her. Háma has declared her to be fearless and high-hearted, and Aragorn does not question it. He believes Théoden has made a wise decision. Even after such a brief encounter, even though her regard unsettles him, he can see the Lady is valiant. Aragorn passes through the gate, hoping no harm will come to Edoras in their absence. He does not love the White Lady of Rohan. But he wishes her joy with all his heart.


	4. Windswept

**A/N: If you have any ideas/prompts to send my way, I would love them!**

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~BV~

She stands before the doors of Meduseld, cold gusts of air catching at the folds of her white dress and tugging at her hair. The men are riding off to war. Éowyn has been appointed regent. She will guard the halls and hearths while they are gone. She ought to be flattered, grateful even. The king and their people trust her. And yet she watches, numb inside, as the small figures of horses dwindle to dots on the horizon. The wind chaps her face and brings moisture to her eyes, and Éowyn would give anything to be riding with them.


	5. Giddiness

**A/N: Thought I'd do a few cheerful ones before the angst sets in.**

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~MV~

The company of riders and refugees has stopped for lunch alongside a mountain stream. Thirsty, Éowyn excuses herself from the group to fill her water flask. Crouching on the stream bank, she immerses hand and bottle in the icy water. A small blue wildflower by her left knee catches her eye, and Éowyn smiles. She remembers a game the maids used to whisper about when they thought she was out of the room. The flower is too pretty and fragile for her to pluck, but she can count. Five petals.

_He loves me, he loves the Elf. He loves me, he loves the Elf. He loves me!_

Fully aware of the arbitrary magic of petals, she laughs at her own silliness. The water flask is full. Éowyn caps it and rises to her feet. Turning, she notices Aragorn looking in her general direction, and hot blood rushes to her cheeks.

_Giddiness. That's what this is. I must be giddy_.

The shield-maiden laughs again. She has always felt scornful of giddiness before, but now . . . experiencing it is quite nice. Éowyn glances at Aragorn a second time, and her blush deepens. Very nice, indeed.

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**Thoughts? Suggestions? Requests? All feedback is greatly appreciated.  
**


	6. Immortal Hope

~MV~

Éowyn's insides were jumping about like a green colt under the saddle for the first time. He was friendly – he might someday love her. He was silent and closed off – he never would. The extremes of agony and ecstasy made her ache. Her emotions became even more wild and painful when she inquired about the delicate woman's necklace he wore at his throat. Wrought of silver and clear, white gems, it was one of the fairest pieces of jewelry she had ever seen. Aragorn mentioned an elf – an elf! How did one compete with an elf?

Her heart sunk deep into her shoes; sour rejection burned in her mouth. Then his last words sank in. The elf woman was leaving, sailing to that strange, fantastical Elvenhome that was rumored to lie in the West.

Éowyn's heart soared; her mouth cleared. Immortal hope had risen again.


	7. Flirting

**A/N: Because sometimes tongue-in-cheek is the only way to go.**

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~MV~

Aragorn had been pretending for the last day and a half, but he could pretend no longer. Théodwyn's daughter had been flirting with him – albeit in an awkward shieldmaiden manner – and he simply could take no more. The smiles. That horrid soup. Asking prying questions about his age, his family, Arwen's necklace. He should never have told her that Arwen was leaving Middle-earth. Then maybe she would not be looking at him like an abandoned hound craving even the slightest crumbs of regard.

The woman in question turned in her saddle to smile at him. Again. Aragorn groaned silently. He should have just said the necklace was a gift from Legolas and gazed at the wood elf like a moonstruck youth – the same way Éowyn kept looking at Aragorn when she thought no one was watching, in fact. LEgoals would humor him – might even play along. That should put a quick end to all this _flirting_.

Casting his gaze toward the slim blond figure who had left his mount and Gimli to follow two of Théoden's scouts, Aragorn continued to mull the idea over in his head. It was a viable plan. He gathered the reins more tightly and started to urge his horse forward to catch up to the elf.

Luckily, at that moment the Wargs attacked. Aragorn sighed in relief. Danger and battle awaited, and perhaps even death, but at least he would be spared the flirting!

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**Lend me your thoughts, shadow readers! :)**


	8. Elven Interference

~MV~

He was alive! Aragorn was alive!

All had seemed dark when he was dead, but now the sun shone upon her again. Defeating the horde of orcs seemed less impossible now. Éowyn hurried towards the man returned from death, bleeding and bruised but whole. Her eyes feasted on him, her heart swelled with bliss, and her feet barely touched the ground.

Before she could reach him, however, Legolas stepped forward. Words were exchanged, an embrace shared, and then she saw it – the fateful return of the elf woman's necklace. Éowyn faltered at the bitter reminder of her position as an onlooker and outsider. Her happiness vanished. She swallowed deeply before continuing at a much more sedate pace.

Legolas had been kind to her - and Éowyn appreciated that - but she was beginning to rather tire of these Elves and their interferences in the lives of Men.


	9. Overreacting

~MV~

Aragorn cursed his overreaction bitterly. He had not meant to become so agitated in front of the men. It had not been good for morale. He wanted badly to blame Legolas and have done, but he could not. The elf was not solely at fault. They were facing a horde of Urûk-hai, and Legolas's exclamation of "Three hundred against ten thousand!" had only been a slight exaggeration. No, Aragorn knew the real source of his frustration: he could not put Éowyn from his mind. Her bravery, her desire to fight alongside him, her poorly timed declaration of love. Foolish woman!

Raising his arms, the warrior slowly slid his chain mail over his head. The cool metal brushed against his skin and calmed him enough to face what was plaguing him. Aragorn did not return Éowyn's love. He could not. He _would _not. But somehow, even after having fought with one of his oldest friends, even with the threat of battle looming over them like a great black wave, it was _her_ face that haunted his thoughts. He attempted to dismiss this. She had become a symbol for the women and children in the caves that he was fighting to protect. A reminder of the courage of the house of Éorl. Nothing more. Try as he might to reason away her presence in his mind, however, Aragorn could not convince himself of the truth of it.


	10. Fears and Misery

**A/N: Aragorn has been understandably frustrated by Éowyn's untimely declaration. But how is our heroine feeling down in the caves of Aglarond? Let's find out.**

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~MV~

Amidst the fear and horror, the snotty noses of weeping children and the anguished looks of their mothers and grandmothers, Éowyn stood alone. The people relied upon her for guidance, and she, she was hopeless. She had just told a man in love with another woman that she loved him. What a fool she was. How could she lead her people now? How could she calm and encourage them when she was falling apart inside?

Her misery could not silence the low rumble of battle above them. It could not quiet the screams of infants or ease her people's hearts. Éowyn was a daughter of kings. She knew this. So she gathered a wailing toddler into her arms, wiped his nose on her long skirt, and lifted him up to her hip. The shieldmaiden moved from one anxious group to the next, counseling courage. Éowyn inspected the caves and assigned several of the women to discover what makeshift weapons they could assemble. Then she sat down for a few moments with the child in her lap and murmured to him softly of her plans for a last stand if the orcs broke through to Aglarond.

"It will be all right, little one. The Men of the Mark are valiant, aged or over-young though they be. And we have on of the men of Númenor to fight alongside our king. They will prevail over the Uruks. You'll see."

The little boy leaned his head against her shoulder and slowly drifted off as her comforting words lulled him to sleep. Éowyn smiled wistfully. If only her fears could be so easily silenced! But Éowyn was a daughter of kings, a foolish, love struck girl with too many women and children looking to her for protection. Her fears would never be so transient. She could not allow them to master her, but neither could she ignore their presence.

Her mind dwelt on her uncle, who had been confined to his chair mere days before; the Riders she had known from childhood; Gimli and his kindness; the fair, fey Legolas; and all of the soldiers, old as well as young. Éowyn prayed for their safety and victory. Most of all, she thought of Aragorn and his masklike face when she had blurted those unfortunate words. If they both survived this, she would never ask him for anything more than friendship ever again.

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**Question for the readers: Would you like to see Aragorn and Éowyn actually get together? Or do you prefer a tale that clings more closely to canon and only hints of what might have been?**


	11. Indifference

~MV~

Neither of them meant for it to happen. He was full of resolve, she brimming with remorse. But when their eyes met after the battle, relief overcame them both. She careened into his chest, arms flung about his neck. His hands came up to steady her and held her close. For a single moment, they stood breathing together. They were alive. They had survived.

As swiftly as it began, their moment ended. Éowyn stepped back first, schooling her joy into a reserved expression. Aragorn released her instantly. They turned and parted, feigning indifference. But neither believed indifference could long endure.

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**Responses to guest reviews:**

**Thorongil - More book version coming up! ****Since the movie brings Éowyn to Helm's Deep and the book does not, I've been writing in the movieverse lately to keep these in chronological order. However, t**here are only two more movie version chapters after this one, and then it will be book verse for a good long while.

**Shieldmaiden - Thanks for the suggestion about Aragorn and ********Éowyn imagining what things might have been like if they ended up together. It's given me a few good ideas, and I will definitely write something along those lines.**

**A/N: It's split down the middle with reciprocated love vs. one-sided love. I will continue writing some that are one-sided and some that are more reciprocated. Because Tolkien chose for ************Éowyn and **Aragorn not to end up together, this story will probably not have a classical happy ending. That being said, and now that this note is longer than today's story itself, please continue to read and give me feedback. I do accept prompts and requests for scenes and will try to work any suggestions into this tale.

**AiH **


	12. Sentiment

**A/N: Sorry about the delay in getting this up. I have been interviewing at medical schools, and life has been a bit intense of late.**

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~MV~

Sentiment would be the death of him. He had resolved to let whatever friendship there was between them wither and fade. Éowyn did not need to be fixated on him. Not when he was old enough to have ridden with Thengel. Not when he was promised to another woman. Not when there was a war on. But she had looked cold, young, and defenseless lying alone upon her couch in the great hall, and so he stoked the fire and adjusted the mantle about her shoulders. It was just his luck that she awoke, snatched his hand, and talked to him.

If only Éowyn had been a bearded female dwarf and not a beautiful young woman who looked at him with such heady admiration. Then he could converse with her, jest with her, and befriend her without guilt. If he was not spoken for – but he was, and he could not afford to entertain thoughts about a friendship with Éowyn. Not when her high regard for him was so evident. The best thing to do would be to ignore her, not to meet her eyes over drinking cups, and especially not to discuss dreams with her in the middle of the night.

Aragorn tried, truly he did, and sometimes he almost succeeded . . . but then sentiment reared its ugly head again, and the battle was lost.


	13. Ride With Me

**A/N: For the first time, I'm venturing a little off-canon. Bear with me. :)**

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~MV~

"Ride with me."

Startled, Éowyn glanced up from saddling her horse Windfola to see Aragorn standing a few feet off, Brego at his heels. "My lord?"

The man smiled, one of those rare expressions that made him look years younger. Was he truly eighty-seven? She had difficulty believing it when he smiled like this.

"My lady." He inclined his head towards her. "Would you do me the courtesy of riding beside me on the way to Dunharrow?"

Éowyn turned her face back towards Windfola and attempted to focus on doing up the animal's girth properly. She hardly knew what to say. This was the most he had spoken to her since that midnight conversation a few days before, a conversation she barely remembered. Araogrn was smiling at her, as well, which was unsettling and only increased the strangeness of this encounter. Forcing her confusion into composure, she faced him again. "Of course, my lord." _To what do I owe this sudden felicity?_ Curious, she hazarded, "What of Legolas and Gimli? Will they not be riding beside you?"

Aragorn stared at the ground sheepishly. Suddenly he seemed no older than her brother and late cousin. "Legolas has decided to spend the morning's journey regaling your esteemed brother with tales of my misspent youth."

"You did not think you could endure the humiliation?" _That is well, but why should you choose to seek _me_ out?_

He actually laughed, in a self-deprecating fashion. "I have endured it upon more than one occasion. I simply do not feel the need to endure it again today."

"And the halfling? Merry, I think?"

"He shall ride alongside us as your uncle allows." Seeing her unspoken question, he continued, "Merry has sworn his sword to the king."

She smiled despite her discomfort. "That was a fair deed. Does he plan to go to war?"

Something in her voice alerted him, and the sternness returned to Aragorn's gray eyes. They swept over her speedily, and Éowyn fought the urge to shiver. His gaze pierced her. She felt he could see everything she was attempting to hide – the long sword tucked between the saddle skirts; the bulky bundles strapped behind the cantle, wrapped carefully to prevent undue noise; Windfola himself, who was far too well-muscled a steed to be a pleasure mount. Éowyn dared not consider what secrets he read in her face.

"'Twas a fair deed, and a noble one," he replied quietly. "As to whether he shall ride with us to Gondor, that is the king's decision." Aragorn stepped closer and lowered his voice even more. "Éowyn . . ."

Ah. He had noticed her gear. So much for hoping. Éowyn lifted her chin defiantly and met his eyes. She would not quail before him. "Yes, my lord?"

The riders around them began to leap into the saddle as horns sounded. It was time to ride to the muster. Whatever Aragorn had been about to say, he changed his mind. "Would you like a hand up, my lady?"

It was hard work to keep her features smooth. Did he not know she had been mounting unaided since she was eight years old? Éowyn rode as well as any man of the Rohirrim and fought better than many. She was a shieldmaiden. Could he not see that? Pride and hurt stirred within her but were quickly silenced. He did not offer assistance as an insult. "Thank you."

She checked Windfola's gear one last time, running her fingers over straps and buckles, before stepping into his cupped hands. Aragorn boosted her upwards, and she settled comfortably into the saddle.

"Éowyn," he said again hesitantly, his eyes continuing to proclaim him the old warrior, alert and wise to dangers she did not see. One callused hand hovered momentarily above her knee before descending to squeeze it once with the lightest of pressure. "Be careful."

Aragorn turned on his heel and mounted Brego, looking at her no longer. "Come. Let us join the king."

As they passed through the ranks of Riders to find Théoden, he began to question her about Dunharrow. It had been a long count of years since he was last in that mountain stronghold, and while Éowyn had not been there since her childhood, still her recollection was fresher than his.

They conversed sporadically yet comfortably throughout the day's ride. Every once in a while, however, she caught Aragorn glancing at her and frowning slightly, as if she were a puzzle he could not quite figure out. She understood his concern but wished he would not bother. Indeed, Éowyn herself did not particularly know what she was planning. She would discover it, she feared, at Dunharrow.

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**Thoughts? Also, next chapter we'll be back to book!verse for a good long while.  
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**AiH**


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